


Of Crowns and Thorns

by Brownies96



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders, Youtube RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Based of Ready as I'll ever be, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, M/M, Medieval, Pastel Peach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 11:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 16,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14810162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brownies96/pseuds/Brownies96
Summary: In the court of Sanderwood, Thomas is a benevolent prince with four close advisors. Unfortunately, some mistakes lead his most creative advisor, Roman, to turn away from his prince and to listen to another, more sinister voice, one that seems to know far more about him than he ought.Based on the-pastel-peach's OCAT au. Please watch her video on youtube it's so good.





	1. Prologue: Meetings

Roman had always wanted to be a prince, to rule. He thought he’d be a good leader, listening to his people. But at the age of six his only subjects were the carved wooden toys his mother made for him. And, as the son of the local woodsman, it was unlikely that he would ever come close to true royalty. Yet, he refused to allow this to bother him and instead he created his own worlds: realms that he ruled benevolently and defended with the might of his sword.

To everyone else this looked like a tree branch, cut down by his father, John, whom he paraded in front of, parrying invisible blows and landing daring strikes. His father carried his spoils behind him, the logs that remained for his small family after John sold them to the merchants, and he nearly dropped them when Roman, off in his own world as usual, nearly ran into a carriage, stopped in the road before them.

One of the horses had cast its shoe and Roman, upon seeing such a fine horse stopped his playing and immediately ran up to it, eager to see if its coat was a soft as it looked. The man who tended to the horse allowed this and spoke to Roman.

“You looked like a skilled swordsman back there,” he smiled  
Roman was never one for shyness and responded, “It’s my singlestick,” he said proudly gesturing to the knot at the base of the stick he had been using as a knuckle guard.  
“So it is,” said the man, his suit of armour glinting as he moved to face Roman.

When the man turned around and saw John, his face lit up with recognition.  
“John!” He said, “Is this your son?”  
“Yes, this is Roman, Sir Colin.”  
The man opened his mouth and his chuckle became a full-belly-laugh “It’s good to see you John.”  
The two men clapped one another on the back in an embrace in a fashion most unfitting for the captain of the guard and a serf. Sir Colin looked at the boy gazing up at him, to the stick-sword still in his hand and an idea struck him, a way to pay back a debt long owed.  
“Roman,” he said, kneeling so he was the same height as the child, “How would you like to be a royal knight?”

Roman had been hooked from the word royal. The more he learned about the world the more the fear that his dream of being a prince would never be realised had sunk in.

“How old is he now?” Asked Sir Colin, turning to John.  
“Six.” John replied, his face uncertain  
“The same age as the prince, I could begin his training next Autumn, he’ll be seven by then I presume”  
“He will.” John’s face was a mask of calm pleasure.  
“Well, lad, what do you say?”  
“Yes.” Roman shone Sir Colin one of his sunny, toothy grins.

“Sir Colin, is everything all right?” Came a voice from inside the carriage. A small boy wearing a silver coronet popped his head from between the drawn curtains.

“Everything is fine, my lord prince, I’ll be with you in a moment.” Colin moved away, grinning at Roman, “I’ll see you in Autumn.”

The small boy waved at Roman who waved back.

Naturally, Roman’s mother was sent into a great fuss when she heard her son would be squired at the palace.

“He’s only a child!” she bemoaned her husband.  
“Enid, I know,” began John, “but it’s a better life than he’ll ever have with me, he deserves better than to be a woodsman forever.”  
Enid went silent but wrapped Roman up in a tight embrace, aware that she would have to overcome her sadness before Autumn, when Sir Colin would keep his promise.

* * *

Logan was in the library again. He wasn’t entirely sure why this kept happening, but the fact was that if he had to hear another lecture from his father about how important it was to dance around other people’s feelings he was going to scream. And, let’s face it, that would inevitably hurt his father’s feelings. So he had gone for a walk and ended up in the only place he really felt at ease.

The palace library was enormous, with its own planetary calendar, which detailed the movement of the stars flawlessly and with breath-taking beauty. He wandered past the calendar room and into the geography section. The books there were often coated in a layer of dirt where the geographers had sat to make their observations, or sometimes they had leaves, pressed into the pages by the enclosure.

It was here that Logan found someone else, Prince Thomas, his face contorted in frustration. He was holding the book on his lap shut and Logan deduced he was trying to recall a passage by memory. The book itself, had the gold leaf edging pattern that was only found on old law books. Logan felt a stirring of sympathy for the Prince who was after all, only eight, like himself.

“Your highness?” Logan began. Thomas composed himself with a start.  
“Who’s there?”  
“Logan Beddingfield, your highness”  
“The diplomat’s son?”  
“Yes,” Logan hoped this conversation wouldn’t go down that particular road. Fortunately, Thomas read his expression and changed the topic.  
“Do you know anything about municipal law?” The prince asked.  
“A bit.” Said Logan, meaning a lot.  
Thomas gestured to the seat beside him and Logan sat, ready to teach.

* * *

Patton sat before his father, his unworldly truthfulness had once again gotten him into trouble. He simply didn’t understand: why would people say they want the truth and then punish him for being honest?

His father, Lord Druitt had been talking all day in the privy council meeting and had decided he would like to talk some more in his chambers about how lord this-and-that was a monstrous buffoon, and how ‘that fool of a king’ was ruining the country. But when Patton had said that he liked King Edward, and thought he was nice his father had slammed his fist onto the table so hard the servant beside him had dropped the tankard of wine and was desperately trying to mop up the mess.

Patton was very good at ignoring his father, especially when he was a wrong as he was that dinner. Patton knew he was right, he didn’t need his father to affirm that. Yet, he felt sad that since his father had hit the table he hadn’t felt that he could utter a word, and sadder still, no one had cared to notice.

The next day Patton waited outside the council chambers when he saw the Prince. Though he had seen prince Thomas at great feasts, the two had never exchanged more than the obligatory bow. But this time the prince approached him on his way through the chamber door.

“Are you alright?” The prince asked.

* * *

Virgil was in his favourite place, the quietest corner he could find. The tourney was not yet over, and he was tired of not being good enough to speak with his father’s men or squires, but also unwilling to expose himself to the sheer loudness of the tourney outside.

He couldn’t even bring himself to resent Roman, the new golden boy, only four years into his training and already excelling in every regard. Because he could never be like that. His father might be the wonderful Sir Colin, Captain of the Royal Guard, but he was just Virgil. Good enough at needle work, he was the only one who could notice rips before they appeared and prevent them accordingly, but sewing wasn’t enough. Nothing he ever did was.

He finished repairing the trim on his father’s tunic and set down his sewing. There was no new project he could start that wouldn’t take too long. Regretfully, he poked his head out of the tent to watch the tourney from the side. His father was readying himself for his joust. Sitting imposingly on his horse he faced an opponent Virgil could only see the back of. Lances at the ready they watched the Prince on the dais, raising is hand as the ‘ready’ signal. Thomas dropped the kerchief and the jousters pelted towards each other.

It was as though time had slowed itself for the sole purpose of tormenting Virgil. He was forced to watch his father be unseated, the force denting his armour and sending him plummeting to the ground.

Before he’d even registered what, his feet were doing Virgil was running towards his father, or what could be his father’s body. No, he couldn’t think like that, but the thought wouldn’t leave his head, instead plying him with images of his mother’s crying face and his own life but without the constant solid presence of his father.

When Virgil arrived, he was filled with relief to see Sir Colin’s chest plate rise unsteadily with a laboured breath. Only once he had watched his father take three more, did he turn to notice that the prince had climbed down and sat beside him, his face white. Virgil imagined he probably looked the same way.

Virgil turned to follow Dr Hammond, who was attending to his father, when one of the apprentices held out a hand to stop him.

“No,” Virgil choked, “He’s my father. Please.”

“Let him go with you,” The prince stood beside him, still pale and shaking, but his voice didn’t waiver.

“I can’t your highness,” the apprentice apologised, “This could be very delicate, and any distractions could cost Sir Colin his life.”

Thomas considered this, “Then as soon as he is well enough to receive his son, and not a second later. Come find us in the kitchens.”

Along the way to the kitchens three more were added to their group, only one of which Virgil could name, Roman.


	2. Chapter 1: In which everyone goes on a picnic

Roman ran far ahead of the others, celebration evident in everything about him, from his voice, to his gallop, to the beam on his face. Thomas and Patton kicked their own steeds into action and raced forwards in an attempt to catch up with Roman, while Virgil and Logan kept their stately pace and searched for a clearing appropriate for their celebration picnic.

Roman stopped and reared his horse showily, allowing Thomas to catch up.  
“Congratulations, Captain,” he smiled.  
“Yes!” Patton pulled up beside Roman and swept him into a hug, “We’re so proud of you.”  
In the distance Logan called to them, “If you’re all done acting like children, we found a place to hold our picnic,”  
“Race you there?” Roman challenged Thomas and Patton.  
“You’re on,” replied Thomas.

The three horses were close to begin but Patton fell behind quickly, he had chosen his horse for her attitude, not for her speed. Finally, Thomas pulled ahead at the last minute. He didn’t even bother announcing his victory, as all words died in his mouth when he saw the clearing: Tall trees curtained a green cliff face, that a waterfall lazily cascaded down. Wildflowers bloomed in patches and all five of them were amazed at the beauty nature could create.

They sat down on their horse blankets and tethered the horses to the nearby trees with some water.

“Virgil, can we give him the present now?” Patton asked hopefully, bouncing as he sat.  
“You are utterly hopeless at keeping secrets,” said Virgil but he smiled while he said it.  
“Well as the surprise is now ruined I suppose we have to.” Logan surmised.  
Virgil ferreted around in his knapsack and pulled out something red and shiny. He offered it to Roman a touch shyly.  
“I made you a new captain’s sash. It’s not great, I mean, but I hope you like it.” He mumbled. “It’s from all of us.” He added

Roman unfurled the sash and gasped, all along its length, scenes of the five of them were embroidered. Everything, from the day Thomas’ dog had puppies, to every last fight between Roman and Virgil, and even the ones between Patton and Logan. Roman loved that no detail had been left out, even though they weren’t all his proudest moments. He also smiled when he realised Virgil must have spent days painstakingly embroidering red onto red, probably doing that thing where he nearly burned his hands squinting at seams by candlelight.

“Virgil, Thomas, Patton, Logan, I- “He choked.  
“I know,” said Thomas.

“Whatever,” said Virgil, in his attempt to diffuse the attention, “You’re still a knave,”

“And you’re still an unhelpful saddle-goose,”

“Are you two quite done?” Logan interrupted as Patton tried to ply him with food, “There is a delightful array of food here and I don’t want the insects to get to it while the two of you whiffle-whaffle at each other.”

“Now come along everybody, there’s no need to fight, we’re here to celebrate after all” Patton smiled at them benevolently, handing everyone a platter of food.

They sat down to eat and were filled with the tranquillity that can only come from knowing one-another for a great many years.

It was the first time since he had found out that he was going to be captain of the guard Roman had managed to get away with just the five of them, everything seemed to be moving at a much faster pace than he felt ready for, and he couldn’t help but worry that he wasn’t being the person he was supposed to be. What was the point of a captain of the guard when there were no wars to fight, no victories to be won? Was he only captain because of his friendship with Thomas or had he earned it? And why were both of those prospects equally terrifying to him?

It must be nice, he thought, to be born to your position, to know your whole life exactly where you’re going, to know who to talk to and why things happened. Sixteen years at court and he still felt like he existed outside of all the goings-on at court. But how was he supposed to explain that to his friends, to a prince? The idea was laughable, and these thoughts were easy enough to push to the back of his mind. It was so much easier to worry about the things he was supposed to care about, like horses, jousts, feasts, merriment.

_Not far from the meadow he slunk around the bushes, careful to keep to the shade. Hiding was second nature to him, after all it was a part of his one and only skill. He knew he was better, he alone knew how to use other people, knew how to see the deepest desires of their hearts, the ones that could scare them. They were weak, the way they feared the very things they wanted. But all the better for him. And here he could see it, not a ripe opportunity, not yet, but a seed. One that if planted would grow beautifully, into exactly what he wanted._


	3. Chapter 2: In which Roman stands on a chair

Virgil followed the curves of familiar corridors to Patton’s room. It was a simple fact that any time they were in need of comfort everyone would simply arrive wherever Patton was. By the time he reached the hall he could already hear Logan.

 

He hoped none of them would notice the needle marks that dotted his hands, he had rushed Roman’s sash and rather than be careless of the quality of the embroidery he had been careless with his hands. At least the sash was red and masked any blood that may have fallen on it.

 

“You know full what that makes no sense! My making one mistake is, objectively speaking, an outlier, and therefore should be disregarded.” Came Logan’s voice.

 

“So, I suppose you could say,” Patton’s smile was evident even though Virgil could only hear his voice, “Those occurrences are . . . infinitesimal!”

 

Logan’s groan was so loud it masked the sound of the door opening. But Virgil did not slip in undetected like he was used to, instead he was wrapped up in a hug from Patton within seconds.

 

“Patton- “Virgil said, feeling crushed, “breathing-, becoming an issue,”

“Sorry,” said Patton abashed, “I’m just so darn happy to see you,”

 

The hardest part was, Patton meant it, and after years of barely being tolerated it was uncomfortably nice.

 

He wasn’t the first here, he did a mental headcount, but not the last either, Roman was yet to arrive. Oh no - wait, thunderous footsteps with no regard for the noise he was making? Roman was definitely coming down the hallway.

 

And there he was, entering with his usual fanfare: “Thomas, I have an idea!”

 

“Oh really, what is it?” Thomas was always eager for new ideas, even though they usually involved a lot of work.

 

Roman stood on an unused chair, posing with one leg on the seat and one on the back, he swung his arms out wide, “After my ceremony promoting me to captain we should have a tourney for all the knights to show their proficiency, so I can choose who to assign where.” He waited for a response.

 

“Is one tournament really the best way to judge a knight’s proficiency? Have we tested that a correlation between the two is sufficient to assume a regression?” Logan said, Virgil was relieved, other than his dislike of tourneys, the idea of planning one, organising it, not to mention all the clothing that would be commissioned of him, gave him an uneasy feeling in his chest.

 

“I don’t know, it could be fun, and it would certainly be good for morale.” Patton no, Virgil thought, don’t put us through this. Virgil was going to have to say something, how could he convince Thomas this was a bad idea, the best way would be to get Roman to take it back, or at least to present a good enough counter argument that it gave both Roman and Thomas pause. He checked Thomas’ expression. Not good, it was thoughtful, as though he was already planning the tourney in his head. How to get Roman to listen to him? Play to his ego? That wasn’t exactly fair play, but if his compliments were honest surely no one would begrudge him this?

 

“Roman,” he began, “surely you know enough about the knights to judge them already. And like Logan said, is it really the best way to judge them? Besides, it all sounds like a lot of work that could take you away from training the guards, and let’s face it, they need you more than we need a tourney. And Thomas, surely you have a lot you need to be doing, can you really afford this distraction?”

 

Roman stepped down from the chair. Yes! And approached Virgil. Oh no.

 

“Virgil, is it your life’s ambition to shut down every last one of my ideas?” This was not good.

 

“No, I just-, I think we need to think about how much we can handle.”

 

“We or you?” At this, Virgil’s heart rate sped up to levels that caused him pain, he almost couldn’t see. Panic, it seemed, was taking over his entire being.

 

“Roman,” Thomas cut cross, warning evident in his tone.

 

“Sorry,” Roman said, “I just want to show everyone what I can do.”

 

Show off more like, But Virgil just said, “It’s alright, sorry I shut you down like that.”

 

It was a testament to how long they had known one another that Virgil did not immediately begin to worry that his friends now hated him. They had been through this often enough. Besides, Logan had taken his side, and surely Thomas would choose the most reasonable argument.

 

“Perhaps,” Thomas said. That wasn’t good, Virgil prayed he wouldn’t chose to do a tourney, “Once your men are ready you could do a parade, to show their strengths, and the training would show you who is willing to work hard under you.”

 

“I suppose I could do that,” A hint of a smile appeared on Roman’s face and some more tension left Virgil. But, of course, he still felt uneasy, he nearly always did.

 

_He tended his garden and smirked as the mayor, down in the village made yet another promise he didn’t intend to keep. All the mayor wanted was to hold onto his power, so he placated the people who could report him to the baron. And the fools who listened to him saw a man who really wanted to help them, ridiculous. As though the mayors most desperate ambition was to help them, and not to live the most luxurious life he could. Humans deluded themselves with the idea of selfless desires, when in truth the most desperate desires of people’s hearts was for them to be happy, everyone else’s feelings be damned. There were no good people, only good liars._


	4. Chapter 3: In which a marriage is debated

Ah, yet another lovely day. Patton awoke early in his well-lit rooms, as different as he and Thomas could imagine from the rooms he had grown up in. He got out of bed and dressed himself, ready for another day in council. It was easy enough to find his way, eating the pastry that had been waiting at his door, he came to the council chamber and entered, taking his seat to the left of Prince Thomas. It was difficult, during council sittings, to remember to call Thomas your highness rather than his name, but such breaches of protocol were reserved for only their inner circle.

 

Thomas looked tense and it didn’t take him long to realise why, before them was the betrothal contract to Princess Valerie of Andaron, a wonderful, vivacious girl, who Thomas wasn’t remotely in love with. It wasn’t as though any other betrothal would be better, though, Thomas would desire a woman on the twelfth of never.

 

On Thomas’ other side, Logan whispered, “it’s an advantageous match, both of you are the sole heirs to your respective thrones, you don’t need to desire someone to marry them.”

 

“Logan!” Patton was so shocked he barely held onto his whisper, “Thomas deserves to be with someone he really cares about, and Valerie too, you can’t push two unwilling participants into a loveless match. Thomas, perhaps you could write to Valerie, maybe she’s feeling trapped too, and you could come up with a solution together.”

 

“That’s . . . actually a really good idea, thanks Patton.” Thomas breathed. “I could get Joan and Talyn to deliver it, I trust them to get the message to her without it being intercepted.”

 

“Good plan,” Patton was pleased, he didn’t want Thomas or Valerie to be sad, “and I’m sure Joan and Talyn would appreciate the time spent together as well.”

 

Patton worried that Thomas might be a bit jealous of his friends’ lovely romance while he faced this mess, but Thomas smiled at the mention of it, like Patton, he was happy for their friends.

 

The council meeting passed relatively quickly after that, and they all approached the tourney field to watch Roman’s guards prepare for the parade. To Patton’s surprise, Virgil was already sitting on the dais, his sewing out. Several banners were neatly folded beside him and he was carefully applying a trim to several tunics.

Virgil grinned at them as they sat down.

 

“Wow Virgil, this is really good.” Patton said wanting to be sure his friend knew how proud he was of his work.

 

“Thanks.” Virgil was not a man of many words when he was sewing so they left him to it.

“The parade is going to be quite soon,” Thomas observed.

“Roman appears to be well prepared,” Logan agreed.

“It’s going to be so exciting,” Patton watched with them until the sun had sunk so low they couldn’t see anything.

 

Patton retired to his room wishing everyone sweet dreams and a good night’s sleep and went to sleep himself, secure in the knowledge he was as unlike his exiled father as he could possibly be.

 

_The man approached the palace quietly. People had far too great a tendency to rely on chance, too stupid to understand that chance doesn’t really exist. He slipped, unnoticed through the gate. No one understood as he did, that the only opportunities that exist are created. The options were twofold: Let everyone else control one’s circumstances; or take control. He knew which side he was on._


	5. Chapter 4: In which everything goes horribly wrong

Roman was ready. He’d practiced all month, devised every last element of the route, and there was nothing more he could do. The nervous energy that filled him no longer had an outlet.

 

“Just a few more minutes,” He said to himself. He unsheathed his backsword with one hand and with the other straightened his sash. Thomas was on a litter around the middle the parade with the others, but Roman would lead it, like leading his armies in a battle charge but without the bloodshed.

 

Finally, he heard the horn that signalled the start of the parade and he urged his horse forwards. It was exhilarating, the feeling of racing forward followed by an army, he felt as though he could take on anything, like he could fly. He began the series of horseback sword manoeuvres that looked absolutely phenomenal synchronised, each of them turning and swishing in time.

 

By the time they’d reached the end of the route, just outside the track through the woods, his heart was racing, and though he was exhausted and sweating he felt wonderful. He turned around to share his victory with his friends, but he couldn’t see them. As far as he could tell the entire front flank should have arrived with him, followed by the middle flank. He ordered the guards to stay there and ran back down the path, dust was kicked up around him and the further he ran the thicker it became.

 

Then he saw it, the litter capsized, Patton supporting Virgil with one arm and Thomas on the other while Logan walked tentatively behind them.

 

“Oh no! Are you all alright? What happened?” Roman ran towards his friends.

 

“One of the horses became frightened and the litter tipped over, I’m afraid your parade won’t be able to make it to the end.” Logan coughed through the dust as he spoke.

 

Roman’s heart sank, but he buried those feelings, “Are you injured?” he said, putting an arm around Logan who had something of a limp.

 

“I think we’re all just bruised, Virgil got the worst of it and he’s walking and talking so I think we’re alright. It’s a pity I can’t say the same for the horses.” Logan gestured to the tangled mess of horse and litter that was barely discernible behind him.

 

Roman’s body felt like lead as he helped guide his friends up to the castle. The fire he’d felt inside himself as he had led the parade had extinguished and all that was left was hollow cold.

 

_The wreckage before him was surrounded by delicious chaos, feelings of hurt and terror swirled about him like a warm breeze and the darker, more complicated feelings, lured him. He gazed down at the horse that had started all the commotion and picked a small rosebud from underneath its bridle. He turns on his heel and left, knowing that everything was now ready for him_


	6. Chapter 5: In which things somehow get worse

Roman found his way into Patton’s room from the barracks, glad he didn’t bump into Virgil, the only other of them with a room on the ground floor, on his way up. What was he going to say to them? That he was sorry? That it was all his fault? The parade had been his responsibility but surely, he wouldn’t be held accountable for something like this?

 

He already knew really what would happen: He’d walk in and Thomas would sit, impassive as ever, while he apologised. Patton would tell him it wasn’t his fault, Logan all the ways everything had gone wrong, and Virgil! Virgil would sit quietly and watch him. It was so unfair, he couldn’t control everything! And if he could he wouldn’t even be in this situation. He’d be prince of Sanderwood, nobody would dare question his right to be where he was, he wouldn’t be some upstart peasant who’s gotten too big for his boots. He’d listen to everyone and defend them, just like in his own worlds where disasters like this never happened, not with him in command.

 

He felt sick to his stomach when he opened the door. They all smiled at him.

 

“My leg isn’t even sprained,” Logan said, “it’s just a nasty bruise.”

“I’m so glad we’re all alright,” said Patton.

 

This just made him feel worse. Could they talk about anything else?

 

“Yes, I’ve sent some servants from the palace to help with the clean-up, as it was a royally-sanctioned event.” Thomas added.

 

Apparently not. Did he have to lord it over Roman? He got the message, he wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t worthy of the position he’d been given and they all knew it. He’d failed at this and that was it, he would be the upstart peasant forever.

 

“It’s not that bad,” Virgil’s voice broke through his thoughts, “People will forget.”

 

Roman couldn’t believe how little they understood. “They’d forget if it was one of you.” The words came out before he could stop them.

 

“One of us?” Patton’s look of confusion was mirrored throughout the room.

“Highborn. But I’m just a lucky serf, they were just waiting to see if I was going to rise or fall, and I fell,” How he wished he had risen. “I failed, and now I’m a message to all peasants who think they can do better. We can’t.”

 

“Roman,” Thomas’ tone was full of concern, “no-one thinks of you like that.”

“Don’t lie to yourselves,” said Roman savagely, “Don’t pretend you don’t look down on me.”

 

The room fell silent. Nobody knew what to say. How long had Roman felt like this? They wondered.

 

Roman took in their silence and realised they had nothing to say. He had nothing to offer them and they were done pitying him. So he left.

 

He made his way back to the barracks, unable to hear anything but the pounding of his own heart in his ears. He had to get out. Anywhere was better than here.

 

He saddled his horse at lightning speed and mounted her silently. They raced out of the palace town, wasn’t there some disturbance he was supposed to investigate out there? He rode to the clearing and in the solitude Roman finally allowed himself to cry, he was tired of acting like he was happy living in a shadow.

 

 

_He lay in wait, prepared for the fly to fall into his trap._


	7. Chapter 6: In which seeds are sewn

Roman breathed the cool night air and allowed himself to sit back in the saddle. Looking around he recognised the clearing they’d held their picnic in. Even though it was barely over a month ago, it felt like a separate lifetime, like it had all happened to someone else.

 

He dismounted from his horse and drew his sword. This was where one of his guards had reported some strange sights. By day, this clearing had seemed beautiful, but at night it was eerie, and the perfume of the flowers was so strong he couldn’t smell anything else, it felt as though the overpowering smell was dulling his other senses as well.

 

Roses, he thought dimly. He methodically made his way about the clearing, investigating but he saw nothing. It was probably just his troops imagining things. He saddled his horse and turned to leave when he heard a rustle and turned again but saw nothing. When he pivoted back he was facing a man.

 

The man bowing before him didn’t look like anyone he recognised but he was gorgeous, his features perfectly chiselled. He wore a dark cloak with gold fastenings that glinted seductively in the moonlight. But all of this was overshadowed by the odd woad tattoos on his face. They looked like scales and covered the left half of his face from his forehead down his neck. Roman briefly wondered if they extended elsewhere but shook himself and readied his sword. He looked directly into the man’s bright yellow eyes.

 

“Your majesty, it is an honour to make your acquaintance. I’ve waited a very long time to meet you.”

 

“Well you could’ve found me at the castle instead of waiting on some desolate country roa- wait, your majesty? I’m afraid you’re mistaken, I am not royalty.”

 

The figure bowed deeply before rising and Roman saw a glint of yellow under his hood, “It’s no mistake, your highness. I am simply using the title you deserve.”

 

Roman shuffled uncomfortably, ““Well then you are wrong, I am Sir Roman of Sanderwood and I serve his majesty Prince Thomas. I am no royal and I would ask you respect your king. Now if you’ll pardon me I really must be going-”

 

Roman mounted his horse and tried to push forward but the figure appeared in front of him again. “I see you for what you are, Sir Roman. A man deserving of more than life has given him. A man deserving of his very own crown.”

Roman wanted to keep pushing past him, but he paused and felt a flicker within himself, “…my own crown? As in, my own kingdom?”

 

“And his own people, citizens who love you, respect you, worship you,” the figure continued to hiss suggestively, circling Roman atop his horse like prey. “Imagine it, for I know you have every day since your childhood. As ruler you could have anything your heart desires. Love and respect and praise. The people would adore you.”

 

Roman imagined it, the love of his life by his side, his friends behind him, supporting him, the people cheering him praises and everyone who ever looked down on him bowing at his feet. It was a very tempting thought

 

“You…You would make me a prince?”

 

“Your majesty, I will make you a king.”

 

The strange man opened his cloak and pulled out a single red rose and offered it to Roman, “Give this rose to everyone you meet and in a month’s time you will have built a kingdom of loyal people who will bend to your every whim.”

 

Roman began to reach out, too captivated by the hypnotic hue of the flower and the promises of this man, but some sensible part of him stopped him short, “I’m to give this single rose to everyone I meet? Sir I’m afraid your calculations are a bit off.”

Another dark chuckle, “If I am to help you on your path to greatness you’re going to need to have more faith in me, your majesty.”

Roman huffed but accepted the rose. He noted the sharp thorns and was sure to avoid them while cradling the rose close to his chest where it sat upon his sash. He looked down at it, at Virgil’s painstaken embroidery and it was as though someone had poured cold water over him. He cannot have this. It isn’t meant to be.

 

“I accept your rose, strange sir, but I reject your offers. You speak of fantasy and have imagined a life for me which I cannot have, nor do I want. But I thank you for the gift nonetheless and now I must be on my way, good day to you.”

 

This time the stranger allowed Roman pass and he stubbornly decided not to hear the muted laughter and the whispered, “You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to yourself Sir Roman.”

 

 “Not going to happen.” Roman broke into a gallop as the strange man disappeared with a shadow of a laugh. He sighed as he rode back to the palace, he had some serious apologising to do.”

 

_*_ *      *

 

Virgil sat on the steps outside the barracks and covered his face with his hands, partly in embarrassment, and partly because the cool night air was stealing the sensation from his cheeks and nose. Why was he staying here, waiting for Roman when he may never come back?

 

And why, why hadn’t he realised? He’d always seen Roman as the golden boy, someone his father would have infinitely preferred to have as a son, and once his father had died, and left his fortune between the two of them it had felt like his envy was confirmed. Why, in all the years he’d spent glaring at Roman enviously, hadn’t he noticed the way Roman had always had to work twice and hard to earn half as much support? Or how his face would flicker when people brought up his low birth? Now that he thought of it, people did bring it up quite a lot.

 

Most of all he wondered why he hadn’t noticed the Roman was the same as him, always an outsider.

 

He felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder and Thomas sat down beside him.

 

“You’re wondering how we didn’t notice, aren’t you?”

 

Virgil just nodded, he didn’t trust his voice.

 

“Roman is a wonderful actor, he’s wasted here, he’d be a wonder on the stage. If he doesn’t want us to know how he’s feeling, we won’t find out. At least, not until it bursts out. He’s a lot like you in that way, though you don’t hide behind a performance, you just don’t talk.”

 

Virgil still didn’t want to speak so he leant gently on Thomas’ shoulder, to show that he appreciated the comment without embarrassing himself with a sob. He heard gentle thumps beside him and when he looked around (a difficult manoeuvre from Thomas’ shoulder) he saw Patton and Logan had sat down on his other side.

 

They sat like that for a while as Virgil tried to quiet his stormy thoughts. His concentration only broken by the sound of hoof-beats.

 

“Roman!” Patton cried as soon as they could be certain it was him.

 Virgil could see from Roman’s face that he had been crying. Good, he thought, I don’t want to be the only one. And there was a rose in his lapel. Where had that come from? Who had given Roman a rose?

 

Roman dismounted and immediately spoke, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that- “

 

“No- “Thomas began but Virgil touched his shoulder and stepped forward.

 

“We’re sorry, we should have noticed how you were feeling. And I’m sorry because- “he choked but Roman’s eyes were on him and he owed him the truth. “Because I treat you like an infallible golden boy, and I resent you for being that, when you aren’t, you’re a person and you make mistakes and have fears and have a life and I’m sorry I forgot that.”


	8. Chapter 7: In which Roman eavesdrops

Logan sat himself down in front of the tome before him. Although all of the inner circle served some advisory role to Thomas, since his parents had decided to step down in order to train him to be king, Logan was the only one with the title of royal adviser. As such, he was the one who was made to pour over the law books to research protocols, so that if there were any motions made that seemed unorthodox, he was able to see if a similar precedent had been set.

 

He didn’t mind this one bit, the peace of the library and simple, objective truth of facts comforted him.

 

Once he’d gone through tome of irrigation laws, he moved on to the court accounts. It was here that he sighed, the damage done at the parade was far worse than he’d first thought, houses had taken serious damage to their foundations. He busied himself going through the loose paper trying to find how much Thomas had allocated to the repairs. It wasn’t nearly enough.

 

All it had taken was one line of the expenses he was thrown from the comfortable world of objective fact in to the cold and unforgiving territory of a moral dilemma.

 

He clapped twice to signal his need for a messenger. “I need you to fetch Lord Druitt immediately. I don’t care who he’s entertaining, it could be a king for all I care I need him now.”

 

*     *      *

 

Roman was exhausted, the events of the night before still haunting his every step. He was wondering through the library, the promise of a new tale of adventure to help him escape his complicated reality. His stomach was filled with a cocktail of guilt, self-doubt, and most of appreciation of his close friends. What would he do without them?

 

It was just as this thought crossed his mind that he heard Patton’s voice.

 

“Now what was so important you had to drag me away from my work,” he said jovially, “the ambassador of Andaron is impossible to get a hold of.”

 

Logan’s tone was even more serious than usual, “Patton, I can trust you, right?”

 

Roman paused, was he really going to eavesdrop?

 

“Of course you can! I’m surprised you feel the need to even ask.”

 

“It’s about Roman.”

 

He was definitely going to eavesdrop.

 

“I’ve been going over the expenses from the parade and,” Logan sighed, “the damage is far worse than I could have guessed. The money Thomas gave us won’t cover it.”

 

“So why did you ask me here? I don’t know anything about balancing accounts.”

 

“You’re the most honest person I know. You testified against your own father when he committed treason.”

 

“You could have said that without brining that up.” Patton winced.

 

“Do I charge Roman for the extra money? Is it the right thing to do?”

 

“Ah.” Patton paused. “Well there are two ways to look at this: One is that Thomas made a mistake estimating how much it would cost and we charge him, how do we feel about that?”

 

“Honestly, the coffers aren’t exactly full at the moment, the harvest was poorer than expected, so it would be better if we didn’t have to spend any more than we already have.”

 

“Well the other option is pointing out that Roman is responsible for the parade and therefore for the damage, it’s a matter of who we hold responsible.”

 

“My understanding is that the barracks can afford it, so I suppose Roman is responsible.”

 

Roman felt a tightness in his chest. The horrible thoughts that had ruled his judgement the night before reared their ugly head in vindication. He turned on his heel and left the library.

 


	9. Chapter 8: In which there is a tap at Virgil’s window.

Roman’s thoughts swirled about in his head, guilt, resentment, fear, and anger all ran through it, tinging his thoughts until he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. And throughout all of it there was a horrible hollow pit in his stomach that simply wouldn’t budge.

He was halfway to the stables when he decided not to go for a ride to clear his head. He didn’t want to end up right back in the clearing with that strange man again. He decided to go for a walk, it had been a long time since he’d inspected the tiltyard, and the grounds were always striking as the seasons changed from Autumn to Winter. 

He wandered about in no particular pattern until he passed a window. He realised he was standing next to the exterior window of Virgil’s studio, the antechamber that came off his room. He peaked inside and saw Virgil, hard at work on what looked like a new cloak for Thomas, or rather, a re-fashioning of the old one so convincing that no one would ever know. He thought about just watching but, with a twist of his gut, remembered where that had gotten him earlier, so he tapped on the window.

Virgil jumped a foot in the air, an impressive feat from his curled-up sitting position and whirled around to face the window. Roman made a face that he hoped conveyed an apology. Roman gestured “come outside” with his hand, and Virgil smiled begrudgingly and picked up his coat, a black seamster’s cloak with purple trim marking him as the royal seamster.

The met at the outside door closest to Virgil’s room. Roman noticed Virgil’s clothes were covered in pins and loose thread. 

“You look like you’ll stab me if I try to touch you,” he laughed, “you look like a very purple porcupine.”

“Nice alliteration.” Virgil smiled and pulled a pincushion out of his pocked because of course he had one, Roman thought, and began to pull the pins out of his various items of clothing.

“You missed one.” Roman said, pulling one of the back of Virgil’s lapel.

“I was getting to it.” Virgil rolled his eyes, but his tone was amicable.

“This really is very dangerous, you know, you could stab yourself.” Roman said, as Virgil pulled several from his pants. 

“I do, all the time,” he said, putting the pins away and holding his hands up for Roman to see, they were dotted all over with tine scabs. Roman took them and turned them over, touching them as though they were made of glass. He paused at a large on near the base of Virgil’s left index finger.

“Embroidery needle,” said Virgil softly.

“From making this?” Roman fingered his sash with his right hand, dropping Virgil’s left.

Virgil just looked at him in affirmation.

“You shouldn’t have, it’s not worth it.”

“Yes, it is.” Their eyes met, and they held their gaze.

“There you are!” Thomas’ voice cut across the grounds.

Roman dropped Virgil’s other hand and Virgil took a step back to face Thomas.

“Virgil, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry I forgot.” Virgil’s face went white. “I have to run and get the banner from- “ 

“It’s alright, “Thomas chuckled, “I picked it up when I went by your rooms. Now hurry up!”

“Where are you going?” Asked Roman.

“Oh, it’s great,” Thomas gushed, “Virgil made a new banner for the castle town, to replace the one that was, um, damaged,” Thomas paused awkwardly, “and we’re unveiling it today.” Virgil looked embarrassed but pleased.

“That sounds amazing, I’ll come with you.” Roman ignored the new surge of emotions that had until so recently been banished by Virgil.

Thomas’s face formed a pained expression, “Roman, please don’t take this the wrong way, but it might be for the best that you stay out of the town at the moment.”

The swell returned in full force, crashing over him like a tidal wave. He looked at Virgil, searching for the comfort that had just been there but was now so elusive.

“Sorry,” Virgil mumbled.

Feelings of hurt and betrayal pushed their way further into Roman’s horrible cocktail of emotions. 

“It’s alright,” he said through tight lips. He marched away, not wanting to disturb their perfect life, that would be going so well if it weren’t for him.


	10. Chapter 9: In which Roman receives flowers

Roman’s tidal wave of emotions crashed. Why? He thought. Why weren’t any of them willing to give him a chance? And Thomas, he wasn’t even giving Roman the chance to apologise. If Roman had been prince, he would have made sure the people would hear an apology, he probably would have presented it as a solution for the hypothetical Roman to begin with. But why did Roman have to come up with every idea? Why couldn’t Thomas, just for once, manage to find a solution without him? It was ridiculous, he could manage on his own, he should be the one in charge.

He arrived in the clearing before sundown. Most of the roses in the clearing were budding. Was it rose season? Surely it was too cold. The bushes grew wild along the edge that lead into the thickest part of the forest, but they had clearly been pruned and cared for. 

“Back so soon, your majesty?” The man’s resonant voice sounded behind him.

“Name yourself! And Stop it! I already told you I’m not royal.” He said bitterly.

“But does Prince Thomas really deserve that title?” the man paused, but continued to walk loops around Roman, invading his personal space. “Not like you do.”

“What is your name?”

“My name is Dolos, if it please your majesty.”

“Dolos, what exactly are you saying?”

“You can be royal too, rule your very own kingdom.”

“You can make good on your boasts? I’ll be a prince.”

“You will be king.” Dolos faced him, his yellow eyes boring into Roman. Roman was silent. He took a deep breath and as the smell of the roses filled his head his emotions ceased their whirling, and he felt, something: He could leave, have his own kingdom, where nobody would look down on him, where he would rule. Any sadness he may have felt at leaving his friends was overshadowed by how they had treated him.

“What do I have to do?”

“A king needs to inspire loyalty, make himself loved by even those who should hate him.” Said Dolos, “Take these.” 

Roman took the large bouquet of rich red roses that Dolos handed him, there had to be several dozen flowers. 

“Hand these out.” Said Dolos in Roman’s ear, “make them love you.”

Roman returned to his saddle and began making his way back towards the palace before he’d even realised what he was doing. He checked his saddlebags and saw the roses carefully secured within the bag. Good.


	11. Chapter 10: In which Virgil isn’t jealous

Virgil had had a plan, in fact, he’d had several, back up plans for his back up plans was always Virgil’s way. He would help Roman understand they were just trying to smooth things over for him. He’d make sure Roman knew that no one actually thought what had happened was really his fault. But somehow all his plans had relied on Roman being there, in Patton’s room. But once darkness had well and truly fallen, Virgil had to accept that Roman wasn’t coming. He ducked out to the barracks and saw him, unsaddling his horse, a bouquet of roses in his saddlebags.

Who is giving him roses? Virgil thought. He stepped forward and Roman saw him.

“I uh,” Virgil faltered, “just came by to check you were alright. I was worried.”

“How unlike you.” Said Roman sarcastically. “I’m very tired.” He continued, making a meaningful face at Virgil.

Knowing a brush off when he saw one, Virgil went to leave. Roman wasn’t willing to listen to him. At least not yet.

The next day Virgil saw Roman leave at daybreak, and he couldn’t come up with a good enough reason not to follow him. 

He followed Roman into the town with a pit forming in his stomach. To his dismay, Thomas’ and his worries from the previous day were proven true. People turned their backs on Roman as he rode past, going so far as to shut their doors at the sight of him. Really, how cliché. Virgil saw Roman’s expression, and through he was making an effort to mask it, the quirk of his brow showed his hurt.

Roman dismounted his horse and approached a woman in her bakery. The only reason she didn’t shut the door was because it was no longer there, along with a significant portion of her wall. This was where the litter had turned over. Her big curly hair and dark forearms were covered in flour.

“Madame,” said Roman gallantly, “I came here to give you my sincerest apologies and a gift.” He pulled out one of the roses. “I know it’s not much, but this is the first step I can think of towards making things better.”

The woman eyed the flower with distrust. “Your apology is welcome, but I don’t know how a flower is going to fix anything.”

“No, it’s merely a gift, the help comes next. Tell me why isn’t anyone working on fixing your delightful bakery? I can see all the bricks are laid out and ready to go.”  
“There aren’t that many builders in the town, it’s just old Bill and his apprentice, so it’s talking them a long time.”

“I see, well I have the entire palace guard sitting idle, I’ll have them sent over now, if old Bill will instruct them,” Roman’s idea was so perfect Virgil felt stupid for not thinking of it, but Roman always was wonderful at coming up with eccentric but effective solutions.

Roman rounded up a messenger and sent for his men. The woman accepted his rose, though it pricked her as she took it. Once she had accepted hers Roman had no trouble distributing his bouquet, with a promise to return with more and to listen to more problems. 

Virgil wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Was it some kind of self-inflicted punishment Roman was trying to do to atone for the damage? Or was it something else?

Virgil watched as Roman saddled his horse that night and waited while he returned with more roses. The next day he followed him again, unable to ignore the feeling that he should be where Roman was.

If any of the others had noticed his new habit of Roman watching, they didn’t mention it. The days passed easily enough, he’d follow Roman while he distributed his roses, wait for Roman to saddle his horse and leave, visit Patton’s room, then return to the barracks and watch Roman return.

It was odd, Virgil thought, that Patton would look at him with as much concern as he did, especially considering how he’d made it his goal to drive the inner circle away early on. He’d been so unkind to them and yet they all still cared. He wanted Roman to see that unconditional caring and kindness, to know that they didn’t blame him, so he needn’t blame himself, but Roman never came to Patton’s room anymore.

When he next followed Roman into the town, Roman gave a rose to a young maiden who pricked herself on it as he handed it over. Roman took her wounded hand and kissed it, making her blush. Really Roman? Thought Virgil, there’s no need to get the poor girl’s hopes up. What was that saying Patton always said? They’d desire a woman on the twelfth of never? That sounded about right. He felt sick watching it.

He turned his head and the bakery caught his eye, the door frame had been put in and the walls around it were slowly being rebuilt. At the top of her doorframe Roman’s red rose was nailed down. That’s odd, Virgil inspected it closely, shouldn’t it have wilted by now? She received it nearly a week ago. Not about to be as careless as the girl Roman had kissed the hand of, he carefully touched the petals. They weren’t silk, they definitely felt like real flower petals. How bizarre.

His reverie was disturbed by a commotion. He walked back to where Roman was and heard it.

“I said I don’t want your bloody rose!” Said an old man wheezing.

Roman did not, as Virgil would have expected him to do, pull the rose away from the man and apologise, instead he gave the man a sad smile.

“Please, I know it’s selfish but if you take it I feel like you’ll know I’m sorry and accept my apology. It’s silly, but it would mean so much to me.”

The man still red in the face, deliberated but eventually took the rose Roman offered. “Ow! Bloody thing stabbed me.” 

Roman did not say anything, but his eyes followed the man and his smile became glassy and odd, not like Virgil had ever seen it before. And was that yellow he saw in his eyes?

Once they’d returned to the palace Virgil wrestled with himself, should he step forward, and talk to Roman? He felt like he had to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. And he was so secure in the shadows, his dark seamster’s cloak hid him well, Roman couldn’t know Virgil was following him.

He almost stepped forwards, his legs moving without permission, but he pulled them back quickly. He couldn’t say anything. Not when he didn’t understand what Roman was doing. Not when there were so many ways that conversation could go wrong.


	12. Chapter 11: In which Roman smells like roses

Handing out the roses went well for Roman. It was as though something was coaching him, telling him exactly what to say so that people would accept the roses and his apology.

 

Every night he would return to Dolos for more roses. Every time Dolos would stare at his eyes so intensely it made him uncomfortable. And the overpowering smell of the roses made it so hard for him to think.

 

It was odd, that inner coach, because it was so adamant about the roses. It wasn’t enough for anyone to say, “I accept your apology,” they had to take a rose or he’d feel awful, like a headache but in his chest too.

 

But it was working, people had gone from hating him to loving him in a matter of days, even the old man who’d yelled at him had accepted his apology. As he brushed down his horse, preparing her for another long ride and checking her over for hot spots, he heard something. It sounded like a crunch. Perhaps a leaf underfoot? He looked around for the source of the noise, but he couldn’t hear anything else. That was a shame, part of him really wanted to talk to someone, someone who understood everything, like Dolos. It was strange that a shaman who he’d known for such a short amount of time knew him so much better than his friends of many years. He might miss them, when he left, though he was still bitter about everything it all seemed so unimportant when he thought of his new kingdom, maybe he’d visit, remind them that they were wrong about him, and he could be a good ruler – no -  a great ruler. He’d go down in history books: Roman the Great. Yes, that had a wonderful ring to it.

 

He rode away into the field, where Dolos awaited him. He handed over another bouquet of roses and brushed Roman’s fringe out of his face. Roman was a bit taken aback by the sudden contact, but he was tired, a bit dizzy, and it was only Dolos. Dolos gazed at him.

 

“They don’t deserve you. You will be ready soon,” He said. “When you return tomorrow I’ll have a gift for you, your majesty.”

 

Roman hummed in acknowledgement, and before he’d even registered what had passed he was on his horse, returning to the palace barracks.

 

After he’d put his mare away he glanced over at the corridor that lead to Virgil’s room, he was less than ten steps away from Virgil’s room and for a moment, just a brief moment, he was about to go to go to there and tell him everything. He didn’t know why but the thought made him tear up a little. He looked down and realised he was clutching his sash tightly. The embroidery being crushed by his hand was of the five of them, Thomas in the middle, Roman and Patton on either side of him. Virgil was slumped into Roman’s back, and Patton hung off Logan probably laughing at a play on words. He felt a pang and took a step towards Virgil’s room, but he stopped himself. He was going somewhere they couldn’t follow. And besides, would they even understand?


	13. Chapter 12: In which Virgil changes minds

Virgil was worried. That fact in itself wasn’t surprising, but he knew that this wasn’t just him blowing things out of proportion. The reason the others hadn’t noticed was their ignorance rather than his overzealous nervousness. He just . . . noticed Roman more than they did. But he couldn’t fix this on his own.

 

He debated in his head: Should he go see Patton or Logan first? Obviously, he would see Thomas last, firstly because he was the busiest, and secondly because he was always so much easier to convince when at least one of the others was on his side. Patton was the obvious choice, but he could just picture the sad, pitying, smile and the way he would completely derail the conversation, especially after Virgil admitted to following Roman around for a week. Logan it was.

 

He found Logan in his office, the room that joined his bedroom and the library by a corridor. Virgil entered without knocking from the library door.

 

“Can I help you, Virgil?” Logan peered over his glasses.

 

“Yeah, um, it’s about Roman.”

 

“Is this about how you’ve been following him for a week?” Virgil stared at him, “Oh, Patton told me not to bring that up. I apologise.”

 

Great, thought Virgil sarcastically. He was definitely not looking forward to talking to Patton later. So, how was he going to explain the situation to Logan? The best way to appeal to Logan was to use reason, so he was going to have to use that and stick to objective facts.

 

“Roman has been handing out roses to people in the palace town, and they don’t wilt,”

 

“Well if it’s only been a week, if they’re in water with some sugar added they should last about this long.”

 

“They aren’t in water, they’re nailed to doorframes and in lapels. You must admit that’s odd.” Virgil paused but he knew he needed more evidence, “And I swear on anything that has ever meant anything to me that his eyes turned yellow.”

 

“That is common in several serious medical problems, we should certainly check in on him.”

 

He left feeling relieved Logan had agreed with him and he tried to focus on that rather than the dread he felt over seeing Patton, because the only way to convince him would be to talk about – he shuddered at the thought – feelings.

 

Patton was in his room, the delegation from Andaron had left a few days prior and he was free to spend his time in his room nursing animals he really shouldn’t have taken from the palace menagerie. This time it was ducklings, that was concerning, if they imprinted on Patton there would be no getting rid of them. Virgil was struck but how sunny the room was, ever since his father had been exiled, Patton had moved to the best lit rooms in the palace. Virgil wondered if it was to escape the memories associated with his old rooms in the centre of the palace.

 

“Hey there kiddo, what a lovely surprise!” Said Patton when Virgil entered.

 

I’m the same age as you, Virgil thought but aloud he said. “I need to talk to you about Roman.” It was like ripping of a bandage, he just had to do it.

 

And there it was, the face, a mixture of pity and sympathy, topped off with a smile.

 

“Oh, Virgil,” said Patton.

 

“He’s giving out roses to people in the town.”

 

“But not to you?” Patton was missing the point as usual.

 

“No! That’s not the point! He’s behaving oddly, it’s not good and I’m worried about him!”

 

“Well,” said Patton, his expression changing to benevolently curious, “what’s he done?”

 

Remember, Virgil told himself, talk about feelings. “He didn’t listen when someone refused a rose and manipulated them into taking it. And, he kissed a girl.”

 

The face was back, “Kissed her?”

 

“Just on the hand, but he flirted with her as well.” How had Virgil ended up on this topic again.

 

“But he ignored someone’s consent!” Virgil desperately tried to get the conversation back on topic.

 

“Yes,” Patton allowed the topic to change. “That is concerning, I suppose you want us to talk to him tonight?”

 

“Yes, and to explain it all to Thomas.”

 

Thomas came early to Patton’s room, and the surprise was evident on his face when he saw Patton, Logan, and Virgil all there.

 

“Something is wrong with Roman,” Virgil said.

 

“Indeed, he has been giving out flowers that appear to be better preserved than anything we have seen before.” Said Logan.

 

“And he ignored someone’s consent to receiving a rose.” Added Patton.

 

Thomas sat down in front of them, as he exhaled it was as though all his princely grandeur left him and the weight on his shoulders became visible. He was always relieved he didn’t have to pretend in front of his friends.

 

Once Virgil was done explaining everything he’d seen to the other three, it was agreed. Something – goodness knew what -  had to be done.


	14. Chapter 13: In which hard work is thrown down a metaphorical toilet

When Roman returned from the town Virgil was waiting for him. Roman almost didn’t see him. In fact, he didn’t until Virgil moved, stepping forward, he didn’t see anything. Virgil swallowed. Roman knew that expression, it never boded well.

 

“Can you come with me?” Virgil’s expression was pained. “Please.”

 

Roman wondered if there was any way he could get out of this. He had Dolos to go meet, his head hurt, and – eventually – a kingdom to run. But he couldn’t put Virgil through his refusal, not when he already looked so tense. And goodness he was tense, when Roman held his arm out in agreement Virgil snatched it and held onto it with white knuckles.

 

Roman was pulled into Patton’s room, and the others were waiting for them. Perhaps, that was supposed to be comforting, but to Roman it just felt like a trap. He felt like a lion in a cage and had to fight the urge to run right back out the door he’d came from.

 

“Roman,” Thomas, in the middle of everyone as usual, stepped forward, “what’s going on?”

 

“You appear to be unwell, are you receiving an adequate amount of rest?” Logan added.

 

“And you haven’t spoken to any of us.” Patton said.

 

“I don’t know why you’re all so worried.” Roman blustered, trying to think what his inner coach would say. “I’m perfectly fine, everything is fine.”

 

“Is it though?” Virgil’s voice was quiet, but it reached Roman more clearly than everything else.

 

No, he wanted to say, everything is a mess and I don’t know how everything got this out of control, but it will be worth it, and you will see just how great I can be. You’ll understand when it’s over. But he couldn’t say that, so he just looked at Virgil and then around at them. They would never understand, not until he could show them.

 

“Roman please!” Virgil’s voice rose, “Can’t you see something is wrong! There is something wrong with the roses you’ve been giving out, they don’t wilt! And you!” Virgil suppressed a sob, “I don’t recognise you, you completely ignored that man yesterday, you manipulated him into taking one. What’s wrong with you?”

 

How on earth did Virgil know all that? The trapped feeling was returning.

 

“Roman,” Thomas had taken another step forward,” we just want to understand.”

 

Did he? Prince Thomas, with his supposedly infinite wisdom hadn’t figured out how to fix things with the townspeople, he had, and if Thomas had just allowed him to have a tourney in the first place none of it would ever have happened. And the others, when push had come to shove they’d shown their true colours. They all thought it was his fault, thought he couldn’t do anything right. And there they were, pretending they cared. They only gave a damn about him when it suited them. Dolos was right, they didn’t deserve him. And when he had everything, and they paled in insignificance next to him, he’d show them.

 

“Roman, we’re your friends.” Thomas peered at him.

 

“No, you’re not.” Roman spat out, “Stop pretending you care about me.”

 

He turned to leave but Virgil leapt up and grabbed him by his sash, the gift Virgil had made for him; that felt like a lifetime ago. When Roman looked up and there were tears in Virgil’s eyes.

 

“Please,” Virgil whispered.

 

Roman faltered for a moment and his headache became a thousand times worse. No, this was right, they’d see, and if they couldn’t be happy for him they didn’t deserve him.

 

He ripped the sash, breaking Virgil’s grip on him. Roman sighed in annoyance, now he was late for his meeting with Dolos.


	15. Chapter 14: In which Roman is crowned

When Roman arrived in the clearing, Dolos was already waiting for him. His arms, which ordinarily held a bouquet of red roses were outstretched in welcome.

 

“Welcome, your majesty,” Dolos smiled, his yellow eyes meeting Roman’s. “Are you ready to receive your gift.”

 

“One moment, Dolos,” Roman’s headache was so bad it was becoming difficult for him to string more than two thoughts together. At least here, in the clearing, his difficult feelings no longer overwhelmed him, and he was able to follow Dolos. That was easier than everything else in the difficult day he’d had.

 

“Here.” Dolos gestured to a black pool on the ground beside the lake that led into the thicket with something on it. Wait, no, it wasn’t a pool, it was a cloak, in the darkest black he’d ever seen (and with the amount of time he’d spent around Virgil that was saying something) and upon it was a flower crown of the red roses woven together.

 

Dolos picked up the flower crown gracefully. “Kneel, your majesty.” He ordered. Something about this felt off but every time he tried to put his finger on it his head throbbed harder than ever, but focusing on what Dolos said, that he could manage.

 

Roman knelt and Dolos smiled, “After all, every king needs a crown.”

 

Roman’s heart rate increased suddenly, and his head felt as though it was about to explode, then something cut into his skin. The thorns, he thought dully. When he looked to his side and saw his reflection in the lake the roses on his head were no longer red, they had turned jet black.

 

“Everyone,” Dolos was whispering, “who has been pricked by one of your roses is now your most loyal servant, your majesty.”

 

“No,” Roman whispered, his headache fading,

 

Dolos laughed, “I promised you a kingdom, I never said I’d give you an entirely new one.”

 

Roman stared out across the field. He was king. He would be king. That was all that mattered.

 

“Yes,” Dolos whispered. “Now, your majesty, your subjects await.”

 

Into the clearing stepped the townspeople, their eyes glazed and yellowed. Some of them had roses in their lapels, which were now black, mirroring their new king’s crown.

 


	16. Chapter 15: In which more roses change colour

Virgil ran after Roman even though he knew it was useless. How many times had they raced? Virgil had never won. It was unfair that this time his defeat did not come with a witty comment about how his pale skin’s aversion to sunlight was slowing him down. No, this time all he got was the sensation of the world collapsing around him. Roman was gone. Maybe forever. And even if he did come back, would he be Roman?

 

Virgil hadn’t liked the stranger he saw in the town: He may have worn Roman’s face, but he was not Roman. Sure, on the surface they’d seemed the same, all gallant and melodramatic. But the real Roman, the one who, six years ago, after seeing how much Sir Colin’s death was affecting Virgil, had stood up and taken over the funeral preparations. People, even Thomas, had thought it was Roman thoughtlessly bowling everyone over in his quest for the spotlight, but no. The funeral had been quiet, understated, and he’d even organised it so that Virgil could say his goodbye surrounded by his friends, rather than alone. It had been perfect, the most fitting way for them to both say goodbye to Sir Colin. The real Roman came up with the most bizarre solutions to everything, not just for himself but for everybody he cared about.

 

He clutched the sash, still in his hands and wept. He couldn’t find the will to hold it back. Roman was gone. The thought ran through his head, over and over.

 

He heard some steps behind him and wiped his eyes, though the tears didn’t stop, expecting Thomas, Patton, or Logan. But it was Ms Smith, the woman who delivered produce from the farms, she had a rose in her lapel and was carrying a large hay knife. He waited for her to notice him, but she didn’t. Instead she walked right past him, as though in a daze.

 

What on earth? Virgil followed her out of the palace gates and saw that there were lots of them. Some of them still in their nightclothes, slowly making their way towards the forest. Virgil stared at them agape, these were all people who’d been cut by Roman’s roses. This was definitely bad news.

 

Virgil made his way back into the palace, almost running into a knight he didn’t recognise, but he did recognise the person with them.

 

“Talyn!” He exclaimed, “I thought you were in Andaron with Joan.”

 

“I was – we were, but I have a response to the Prince’s letter and there was some trouble with a baron and a mayor causing civil unrest in the village on the boarder so Princess Valerie sent us with a guard. I’m smaller so my horse had the energy to bring me back today, but everyone else will catch up tomorrow. What’s happened here?”

 

Fortunately for Virgil, Talyn was one of those rare people who could understand someone speaking at them at a million miles per second, possibly because they too, were burdened with thoughts that ran faster than their speech, so Virgil was able to explain everything very quickly.

 

They both raced up the stairs to Patton’s room, where Thomas, Logan and Patton still waited. It took Virgil a while to catch his breath but once he did, he relayed what he had seen in the town.

 

“I don’t understand, what do you mean by possession?” Patton eyes were wide with confusion, and not just because his glasses made them look larger.

 

“I don’t know,” Virgil was trying not to get frustrated, “it was like the roses were controlling them, and their eyes were yellow, I think- “He didn’t want to say it, but someone had to, “I think Roman did something to them.”

 

“Oh Virgil, I know Roman’s upset at the moment but that’s no reason to- “Virgil was done playing nice, he grabbed Patton mid-sentence and took him down to the gates, where the hordes of people making their way into the forest were visible.

 

Patton was lost for words. Virgil grimaced, it had been bad enough to go through the betrayal himself, but Patton’s shocked expression made him feel awful for bursting his friends’ bubble.


	17. Chapter 16: In which Virgil runs out of tears to shed

Roman surveyed his new army. Were they perfect? No. But they would suffice for his first order of business. Many of the palace guard were there, from when they had pricked themselves touching the roses the villagers had put out, and as such Thomas couldn’t possibly have enough to defend himself.

 

Roman felt good, his cloak in his hand as he marched out before his men. There was no need for a rousing speech, a tragedy as Roman had always been rather good at them, but it mean he could get on with the show. Dolos had vanished but this didn’t bother him as much as it normally would. Instead he felt at peace, he was in his element, and soon he would claim his rightful place as King of Sanderwood.

 

He mounted his horse and gave the order: “To the palace!” Roman’s army, in all its glory charged towards the palace. His perfect subjects did not falter or grow tired along the ride. Even those on foot did not break their pace.

 

Hah! Roman thought when he saw the palace, the gates wide open. Roman, always a better swordsman on foot handed his horse off to one of his subjects and engaged. He had trained these guards well, but he was better, the only person to ever come close to his level of skill was long dead. Once he had broken through their ranks he charged ahead into the palace, his instinct was to run straight to the throne room, but he knew where Thomas would be.

 

He wound his way up the stairs to Patton’s room and kicked open the door.

 

There they were, his four so-called friends. He drew his sword and advanced.

 

“Roman, no!” Thomas placed himself between Roman and the others.

 

“Are you offering yourself up, your highness?” Roman sneered.

 

“Don’t hurt them.” Came Thomas’ reply.

 

“I only need to hurt you.” Roman lunged forward and though Thomas blocked the blow he left an opening by his legs. Roman feigned downwards and then quickly placed the point of his sword on Thomas’ throat.

 

“There,” he said, victorious. He moved his blade onto its side and held Thomas in a lock. He turned to look at Logan, Patton, and Virgil. “Off you go,” he said, “Or your precious prince gets it.” To illustrate his point, he edged his blade closer to Thomas’ throat.

 

They ran.

 

“How does it feel,” Roman smirked, “to know they abandoned you as easily as you all abandoned me.”

 

*     *      *

 

Virgil couldn’t believe his eyes when Roman returned to Patton’s room, though not in a good way. He knew, even if Patton didn’t that the real Roman wasn’t just going to return. If he hadn’t run out of tears to shed, more would have come when Thomas had stood between them and Roman’s blade. When Roman told them to go, he had stayed, rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the horrors before him, until Logan had grabbed his arm.

 

“This position has no tactical advantage,” Logan had whispered. “We had best retreat.”

 

Virgil had allowed himself to be taken from the palace.

 

They recuperated on the thinnest edge of the woods while Logan and Patton spoke with Talyn.

 

“I’m so glad you’re alright!” Patton hugged Talyn while Logan spoke.

 

“You’re certain the Andaronians will aid us?”

 

“I don’t doubt it. Joan is already on their way with them.”

 

Virgil stared up at the palace and felt yet another pang over the loss of the real Roman, and the fear that he may never get him back consumed him.

 


	18. Chapter 17: In which they are ready as they’ll ever be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: if you haven’t watch the animatic by thepastelpeach that inspired this fic please watch it now as I’m essentially directly quoting it here. Obviously, the lyric rights belong to Disney

Roman smiled once he knew Thomas was secure. He looked over at Thomas. Pathetic, he thought, how could he ever be a king.

 

“I suppose you’re preparing for another attack?” Thomas bluffed, but his eyes gave away his fear.

 

Roman smirked. “Any moment now, your highness.” He paused and turned to face his new kingdom. “Believe me I know, I’ve sunk pretty low, but whatever I’ve done you deserve.”

 

Thomas interjected “Roman please- “

 

“Quiet! I’m the bad guy that’s fine, it’s no fault of mine, and at last some justice will be served.”

 

“Please listen!” Thomas tried again but Roman ignored him. Instead, pulling on the cloak Dolos had given him.

 

“Now it’s time to stand up or it’s time to back down, and there’s only one answer for me.” Roman picked up his sword and unsheathed it. “And I’ll stand up and fight ‘cause I know that I’m right and I’m ready. I’m ready. I’m ready.” He opened the tower balcony and stepped out, surveying the rebels who amassed outside the castle. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

 

*     *      *

 

Virgil looked up when he saw the light from the balcony and there was Roman, his cloak flapping in the breeze. He held up the torn sash, his hand gripping it as he thought of what he had lost. He turned to address their army. No one else was going to lose anyone, not if he could help it.

 

“Now it’s time to rise up or it’s time to stand down and the answer is easy to see.” He wrapped Roman’s sash around his neck. He held his hand out to Sir Jamal who handed him a sword. He recognised it, it had belonged to his father.

 

He turned back to the troops “And I swear by the sword if you’re in get on board. Are you ready?” He asked.

 

“I’m ready!” said Patton, placing his hand over Virgil’s left one the he had outstretched to punctuate his question.

“We’re ready.” Logan added his hand to theirs.

“We’re ready!” Called the crowd.

 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Finished Virgil.

 

*     *      *

 

Logan grabbed Patton’s hand and pulled him away as Virgil continued to address the crowd. He gazed at Patton, concerned his friend’s optimism would only lead to more pain.

“Are you quite sure we can do this?”

Patton gazed at Logan. “Together we will guarantee!” He led Logan back to the preparations.

 

*     *      *

 

“I’ll make them hear me!” cried Roman

 

*     *      *

“Now it’s time to redeem or it’s time to resolve!” Chanted the crowd.

“Prove they can trust me!” Virgil called.

“I’ll save my home and family!” Patton added

“Now there’s a line in the sand and our moments at hand and we’re ready” continued the crowd.

“I’m ready!” Logan added his voice.

“I’m ready!” Patton too

“I’m ready!” Virgil joined in, mounting his horse and preparing to lead the charge.

 

*     *      *

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Roman turned away from the balcony and Thomas saw his eyes. Virgil was right, they really were yellow.


	19. Chapter 18: In which Roman jumps off a balcony (but is OK)

Virgil stared at Patton and Logan as they sheathed their small daggers, their swords and scabbards had been distributed among the small crowd of unaffected townspeople.

 

Logan addressed Virgil and Patton, “In order to clarify things, I would like to review the plan.” Virgil nodded, his stomach had apparently chosen this moment to perform an acrobatics routine.

 

“I just don’t understand why we don’t just head up the tower stairs. We know exactly where Thomas is, why not simply take the most direct route?”

 

“Because Roman will have thought of that.” Virgil’s voice was strained with the effort of keeping his emotions from showing, “He knows us, he knows how we think, so we have to go a little outside the box on this.”

 

“Climbing a tower wall isn’t just outside the box, its unbelievably dangerous.”

 

“But we have to get Thomas out of there, as long as Roman has him, he’s got leverage over us.” Virgil tried to moderate his breathing, doing his best to remember how to convince Logan he was right.

 

“And you’re positive you can distract Roman?” Logan asked.

 

“Yeah,” he gave a self-deprecating smile, “but don’t bet on me holding him off for too long, I’m not really a match for him” Virgil avoided their eyes, he didn’t want to see their pity.

 

“Logan?” Patton asked.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Could you please get our climbing things ready? I want to talk to Virgil for a moment.”

 

Logan gave Patton a puzzled look but left.

 

“Are you alright, kiddo?”

 

“Sure.” Virgil’s voice was flat. Patton put his hand under Virgil’s chin and moved his face, so Virgil had to make eye contact.

“No.” Virgil choked out. “I think part of me hopes there’s enough of him left that he won’t hurt me too badly.”

 

“Virgil.” Patton looked at him, really looked at him, “You’re going to be alright. No- don’t disagree. Roman will come back to us, and you will be fine. Don’t lose faith in yourself, kiddo.”

 

Virgil wrapped Patton in a tight embrace, wishing, more than anything else, he could believe Patton. He let go.

 

“Go.” Said Virgil. “You have a castle wall to climb.” Patton reached back for one more hug before he left.

 

*     *      *

 Logan shook his head at Patton as he approached.

 

“You can’t know for certain that everything will be alright.”

 

“And why not?”

 

“Because there are far too many variables, and even if we do win we can’t know for certain that Roman will return intact.”

 

Patton just looked at Logan and smiled wryly. “We will get through this. I’ve been to hell and back and you helped me find myself in that mess. I’ve learned to trust our little family.”

 

“Preposterous, you can’t always use the past to assume the future, especially when the situations are completely different.”

 

“Logan, you are the smartest person I’ve ever met, but you still don’t understand people.”

 

They arrived at the palace gate and entered, trying to slip through the melee of opposing soldiers. The ran straight for the base of the centre tower. Patton noticed that Roman had changed the banners. Logan threw his grappling hook up and it wrapped itself around the balcony.

 

“Nice one.” Whispered Patton.

 

“It’s simple geometry, would you like me to do yours?” Patton nodded. Another perfect throw and they began to climb their ropes. Patton very intentionally did not think about just how bad his rope burn would be after this. He would have loved to check in on Logan as they climbed, but he needed all his energy to focus on not falling. Once they were just below the balcony, enough that they could still hide themselves from sight, Patton looped his foot into the rope, so he could go through the tools on his belt. Logan lit his torch and Patton, pulled his own torch from his belt and lit it off Logan’s. There was the signal.

 

He heard Virgil bellow something below and to his horror, Roman leapt off the balcony, his large black cloak slowing his fall.

 

“That shouldn’t be possible.” Said Logan.

 

Patton didn’t respond but instead hauled himself over the balcony with a grunt.

 

“Patton!” Thomas ran at him and embraced him “Are you alright? Logan!” He ran over to hug Logan which Logan tolerated.

 

“We have to leave, quickly.” Logan gestured to the window and pulled on some gloves. Patton pulled his own on and handed some to Thomas.

 

They ran over to the balcony and grasped the ropes, Patton and Logan together and Thomas on the other. They gripped the rope and slowly eased their grip enough that they slid down. It was very difficult to control the speed and they landed in a messy pile of limbs at the base of the tower, but without any truly terrible injuries. They ran back, hopefully in time to help Virgil.


	20. Chapter 19: In which Virgil spills the beans

Virgil watched Patton and Roman leave. He didn’t understand how Patton could be so optimistic, he wasn’t even sure he’d survive this fight. Once that thought had crossed his mind it wouldn’t go away. He thought about all the things he may never get the chance to do. All those regrets, and so many of them involving Roman. He felt like he was suffocating. He paused, breathed in for four seconds, held it for seven seconds and breathed out for eight seconds: panicking now wouldn’t help him, and there was a chance, however tiny, he could save Roman.

He looked up and watched as the tiny dots under the balcony swayed and became illuminated. It was time.

“Hey! Princey-pants!” He called at the palace, striding forwards. Oh well, it was too late to back out now. What had always bothered Roman? Ah! When people tore apart his ideas and mocked his creativity.

“What exactly are you supposed to be doing? Because it looks like you’re just copying every take over ever. Besides, you barely handled being captain of the guard, what makes you think you can run a kingdom?!” That definitely got his attention, Roman was out on the balcony. And then he jumped.

Virgil’s heart stopped until the dark cloak billowed out behind Roman and he landed about a quarter mile away. He didn’t look away from Roman, but he focused some of his attention on the dots that were Patton and Logan, watching them climb into the tower.

“What was that?” Roman unsheathed his sword, “you should know better than to provoke me. You don’t stand a chance against me.”

I don’t have to stand a chance, I just have to distract him long enough to take him down, Virgil told himself, readying his sword.

Roman circled him and lunged so suddenly Virgil jumped and nearly missed his parry.

“You’re weak,” Romans voice cut in, “You’ve always been weak – no wait, you’re worse than weak, you’re pitiful, and pathetic.”

‘Nice alliteration,” Virgil was ignoring his comments, he already knew all that anyway.

“I don’t know what I ever saw in you.” Roman ducked through Virgil’s block.

“Wait, what?” Virgil was so surprised Roman landed a blow on his arm. Ouch, that really hurt.

“I thought maybe you might be able to understand,” Roman continued his taunting, “you might care have cared about me, you might actually like being around be, but when push came to shove you left me in the dirt, just like everyone else.”

That hurt. “Roman, I never meant to betray you. You know I’m no good at solving problems, only identifying them. I just wanted to spare you having to listen to people say nasty things to you.”

“So you could say them behind my back!?” Roman came down on Virgil with a diagonal cut, and Virgil barely held his sword up to defend himself, he wobbled on his feet. Keep Roman talking, maybe you can talk him down, he told himself.

“Roman, no. I would never say anything like that about you,” Virgil took a deep breath, his instincts screaming at him to shut up, he’d kept all of this in for so long. “I think you’re amazing. For as long as I’ve known you you’ve worked to be the best, even when people didn’t want you to be. You notice details everyone else seems to miss. And your mind!” Virgil gesticulated with his arms, which was a mistake because the action immediately sent a flash of pain through him and he fell to his knees. But Roman wasn’t resuming his attack, so he continued, “You have the most incredible mind. And you’re never afraid to share your ideas, no matter how bizarre they may be. You’re my hero Roman, or rather, you were.” 

Virgil watched through fuzzy eyes as Roman approached him.


	21. Chapter 20: In which Roman fights with himself

“Roman, he’s right.” Thomas stepped towards the two of them and Roman’s hand sagged under the weight of his sword. He was close enough to touch Virgil, and saw his sash wrapped around Virgil’s pale neck. Virgil’s words had woken him up, as if from a daze. What had he done? No, part of him said, you’re taking back what is rightfully yours, they’re only standing in your way, isn’t it pathetic that they can’t even be happy for you. That’s not right, Roman told himself, didn’t we just hear what Virgil said? They don’t think I’m worthless.

Oh? Said the inner voice, then explain their actions? It’s all very well and good to say something but to do it? 

Roman reached once again for his sword, the inner coach egging him on: Do it, do it, do it, finish it all, finish them all.

“Roman, you provide us with ideas and perspectives we’d never even thought of and your actions serve as a constant reminder that we shouldn’t underestimate you.” Logan added.

See, said Roman to the inner coach. 

“Roman, you’re the most heroic person we know. You’ve taken on foes we’ve thought were impossible to beat and emerged victorious.” Patton’s voice ran off Logan’s

Roman dropped his sword and took a step forwards when Virgil spoke up, his voice frail. “You’re my hero.” He repeated. As he spoke Roman realised that the red on the ground next to him was not all Roman’s sash. 

“Oh no, Virgil,” Roman breathed and the inner coach fell silent. Virgil was slumped over on the ground, his eyes fogging over. Roman took his sash from around Virgil’s neck, acting on instinct, although the others made noises of protest, he used the sash to bandage Virgil’s wound and ripped off his cloak and wrapped Virgil in it, to prevent him from going into shock.

“Virgil,” he said softly, then he turned to the others, uncertain, “What have I done?”

“I knew it!” Patton called and ran to hug him.

“Well done, Roman,” Thomas patted him on the back.

“Indubitably,” agreed Logan.

“Yes Roman, well done.” Came a cynical, rich, and unsettlingly familiar voice.


	22. Chapter 21: In which Roman has an idea

Virgil looked up at the new voice, everything around him felt like a dream. The man before then had to be some kind of hallucination, he had scales on his face. But his eyes, his eyes looked familiar. That yellow. Oh no, not a hallucination.

 

“Dolos,” Roman’s voice was nearby and comforting. Virgil touched his wounded arm, it was bound. So Roman had done that, it wasn’t just a wishful dream. He felt himself steadying, the world was slowly coming into focus.

 

“What did you do to me?” Roman’s voice was louder now.

 

“Nothing, your majesty, that you didn’t want.”

 

“No, it wasn’t me.”

 

“Oh, which part? The one where you betrayed your friends? The part where you fought them? Kidnapped one of them?”

 

Roman fell silent.

 

“Roman?” Logan asked, “Is this the person who gave you the roses?”

 

Roman nodded. His voice was small, “He told me to give them out, he said I could be king and you would see what I was worth.”

 

“We already knew,” Virgil’s voice was louder than he’d intended but he was glad it had carried. “He was just trying to isolate you, make sure you felt alone so you’d listen to him.”

 

“But you aren’t alone,” Thomas added in, and this pox upon society needs to get out of my kingdom, and all of my allies’” Thomas couldn’t forget how Valerie’s army had helped them. He stood up and handed Roman back his sword, surprised at how certain he was that Roman wouldn’t simply attack them again.

 

All five of them drew their swords and advanced on Dolos, Roman and Virgil a little weaker than the rest. When was the last time either of them had slept?

 

They advanced on Dolos, forming a circle to entrap him. They moved forward, preparing to lunge forward when Dolos vanished.

 

“Missed me,” came Dolos’ mocking voice from behind Patton who yelped and whipped around.

 

“Are we going to be able to catch him?” Logan asked.

 

“No,” Roman realised, “but we can control him.” He saw everyone else’s expressions and backtracked, “just for enough time to trap him.”

 

“Alright,” Thomas looked at Roman, “What do we do?”

 

*     *      *

 

Roman darted behind Dolos and pretended to hit his head, crumpling to the ground dramatically. Virgil and Logan approached Dolos, moving towards him slowly and lightly so Dolos would have to keep an eye on them to decide when to vanish.

 

Roman heard Thomas and Patton’s footsteps as they prepared to rush Dolos. Roman leapt up and pulled the black rose from his lapel and scratched wildly at Dolos, snagging his skin, the part covered in the tattoos didn’t open but his untouched flesh began to bleed.

 

“Kneel.” Roman ordered, hoping this would work. Dolos knelt.

 

“Now what?” Virgil asked.

 

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Roman admitted.

 

“What a surprise.” Quipped Virgil sarcastically.

 

“I have an idea,” Joan stepped forward, holding Talyn’s hand, they were both looking a little worse for wear. “In Andaron they have these boxes that are supposed to trap a person’s magic. People keep them for luck. I’ll see if any of the guards have one.” They left. Roman breathed a sigh of relief knowing that he wouldn’t be this horrible person who bent others to his will for too much longer.


	23. Chapter 22: In which Virgil finally gets a flower

Roman surveyed the damage. What had he done? The previous night didn’t yet feel real. Looking around at the palace and the town he felt a deep sense of shame.

 

“It’s alright, you weren’t yourself.” Virgil linked his arm through Roman’s.

 

“But I was, I played right into his hands, he played to everything I wanted. It was me, that’s the worst part. It was the worst parts of me, the parts I’d rather pretend don’t exist, but it was me.”

 

Virgil didn’t know what to say to that, so he just leant into Roman, hoping his proximity would provide the comfort his words couldn’t.

 

“Thank you,” said Roman, “for everything.”

 

“Alrighty kiddos, let’s get to work!” Patton’s voice rang through the gate, we have a town to repair and a castle to reinstall to its former glory.”

 

“You know we can’t possibly accomplish all that in one day.” Came Logan’s voice.

 

“That’s no reason not to start.” Came Thomas’s cheery response.

 

“Just one foot in front of the other.” Virgil whispered to Roman.

 

“Oh! Before we go- “Roman held Virgil’s arm. “Patton had this idea, and well it wasn’t great, but I figured what’s the harm.”

 

“You’re rambling Roman.”

 

Roman fidgeted and pulled out a green carnation. “Carnations aren’t really in season yet, but they traditionally mean an apology, He seemed to think you liked the idea of apologising with flowers.”

 

Virgil took the flower and smiled, pinning it carefully in his lapel. Was this what Patton’s odd expression had meant when he’d told Virgil to go check on Roman?

 

Hand in hand, the two of them walked down to help their friends.


	24. Epilogue

They were all thrilled to be going on a trip to Andaron. Roman, always eager for a new adventure, most of all. So thrilled, in fact, he stuck his head out the window to feel the wind in his hair.

It turned out that Valerie’s suitor from Lorland had also written to the princess, with an eerily similar message. So, the suitors were both going there, officially to compete for her hand, but the reality was another story entirely: Valerie planned to introduce the two.

Virgil lay back in the carriage, he felt uneasy about the trip but with all five of them going, it was difficult to stay worried. He pulled his feet up onto the seat and began to work on some more embroidery.

Roman moved his head back in from outside the carriage window and turned to Virgil.

“Your legs are in my spot.” He said, his indignation melodramatic.

“You moved,” Virgil responded lazily, his eyes not leaving his sewing.

“Well fine then.” Roman eyed Virgil mischievously, calculating the best way to execute his plan.

Virgil yelled in shock as Roman launched himself onto him.

“What the hell are you thinking? I’m holding a needle!” Virgil glared.

“I know, I was careful to avoid it.” Roman adjusted himself so he was entirely on the carriage seat and was also on top of Virgil. He took Virgil’s needle. “But I suppose it is dangerous, so I’ll be putting this away.”

“So you’re just going to lie there.”

“I’m comfortable, aren’t you?”

In all honesty, Virgil was comfortable. Now that he was used to Roman’s weight on top of him he felt very secure.

“Would you get off me if I said no?”

“Of course!” Roman responded gallantly, shifting his weight in preparation to get up.

“No, - I didn’t mean. You can stay.”

Roman lay back down and enjoyed the ride. They stayed like that for quite some time, until the carriages had stopped, and Patton came to fetch them for lunch. In fact, if Logan hadn’t insisted, Patton never would have had the heart to disturb them.


End file.
